Keeping Up Appearances
by Dragon Pulse
Summary: There are times when forced smiles and obvious distance aren't quite what they seem. After all, love does funny things to a person. Kurogane/Fay.


There was something about the way Fay slept that always unnerved Kurogane. Kurogane knew he wasn't the most affectionate person, but even still, he craved more from the blond.

In their waking hours, Fay always acted affectionate. He would cling to Kurogane's arm when walking through the the streets of whatever country they were in. When they had dinner, Fay would brush his hand gently against Kurogane's. And even when his lips didn't curl into a smile, his eyes would be lit with the sort of love that Kurogane never thought the magician was capable of showing. But like everything else Fay did, it was an obvious lie. Could anyone truly be that loving and still keep someone at arms length? To remain so detached when acting in such a way always made Kurogane's stomach slip into knots. He wished he understood why. Why the mage lied. Why he went along with the lies just to have someone to sleep comfortably next to at night.

"K_uro-pii, I was told by the hotel's receptionist that dancing is popular here. We should go dancing while we're here!"_

_A grunt escaped the taller man's lips. "I'm not going dancing."_

_Within a matter of seconds, Kurogane had found Fay sitting on his lap, straddling him and twirling strands of black hair in his fingers. He smiled warmly, leaning forward just enough for the tips of their noses to touch. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was the latent desire for affection, but Kurogane's hands had found their way onto the limber magician's hips. His eyes closed, and a mildly pleased sigh escaped his lips. Maybe he would consider it. Maybe if he complied, at the end of the night, things would change._

They never went dancing. Kurogane was tall and awkward. He was ninja, a fighter. He didn't have the small limber limbs. His body didn't breeze like the wind, and he couldn't step lightly unless he was doing an ambush. He wasn't Fay. And maybe that was why Fay couldn't get attached.

There were always so many maybes.

When they would go into a shop to pick out new clothes, Fay would hold them up to Kurogane, commenting on how good he'd look in it. He'd wrap his arms around the ninja. Their eyes would meet, and there would be a feeling that was completely undeniable. Sometimes their lips would softly meet. Other times, the blond's lips would trace his jawline, or make their way down his neck. There was a time he would have refused it, but he'd grown used to it. Accustomed to the affection that Fay was willing to give him. He could even admit to himself that he enjoyed it.

Everything was so different when they would get back to their room.

Fay would smile, yes. But these smiles were always forced; they were the smiles Kurogane hated the most. When Fay looked at him, it would feel blank. Often times, their eyes would never meet. The magicians eyes would be looking elsewhere - the painting on the wall behind him, the dischevled strands of hair, or maybe his lips when Kurogane was speaking. But it would never be his eyes.

He would sit on the chair, stretching slightly before leaning back. Of course, he'd still be smiling. Kurogane would sit on the arm of the chair, but Fay never really responded. Kurogane would run a hand through the soft blond hair, or he'd try just as hard to provide that gentle touch that Fay have given to him at dinner.

Nothing.

He'd tense up slightly. He'd pull his hand back and put it in his lap. He would stand and say i"I'm going to shower."/i At worst, he'd say he wanted to go on the balcony and get some air.

Alone.

And without even a second glance, he would get up and walk away. Kurogane would watch his figure as he left the room. He'd sigh to himself. Sometimes he'd punch a hole through the wall; other times he'd shower. Sometimes, he would just lay atop the bed and close his eyes, awaiting the magicians return. He never opened his eyes on those nights. He stayed completely still, and when the mage would finally crawl into bed hours later, Kurogane would shift slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the way the mage slept. His face would be buried deep in the pillow. The ninja often wondered how he didn't suffocate on the down feathers of the pillow. Maybe it was because the floated the same way he did. He would touch Fay's arm, or scoot closer to him. But Fay would just shift himself closer to the other end of the bed.

It was on those nights that Kurogane would go outside onto the balcony himself. He would stare at the stars on a clear night. He would let the rain drench him and allow his dampened hair to cover his face when it poured. He shivered in the snow, but never made any attempt to get a coat or warm up. It was on those nights that Kurogane wondered how Fay lived like this. Keeping someone so close, but allowing themselves to be completely alone.

And it was on those nights that Kurogane wanted to hate everything about the mage.

But Kurogane never saw what happened inside the room on those nights. He never saw how Fay would slide out of bed. He never saw how Fay would sit in the chair and watch Kurogane from a distance. He never saw the sad look in Fay's eyes when the magician tore himself apart for what he was doing. Fay could see the heartbreak in Kurogane's eyes every time. Every touch, every kiss, every time he pulled away. Each one garnered a different sort of heartbreak, and all for the same reason.

This was the way it needed to be. Every night Kurogane spent on the balcony, he tried to convince himself of this. That despite the love they both desired, they needed to keep their distance. When all was said and done, they would be separated. What was the use in forging such a deep attachment if it couldn't be seen through to the end? It wasn't that he didn't love the ninja. He did. His soul ached when they were apart. His soul broke when he refused affection. They both knew public affection meant little when it was reciprocated at home. But it was for the best, right?

When Kurogane would make his way back into the room, he never saw Fay slip out of the chair. He never saw him crawl back into bed.

And he never saw the tears that stained Fay's pillow when his face was buried in it.

There was something about the way Fay slept that unnerved Kurogane. What Kurogane didn't know was that it unnerved Fay even more.


End file.
